


Under The Desk

by SandInAnakinsShoe



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Anxiety, Bubblegum, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Michael is honestly such a dork, Panic Attacks, Protective Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandInAnakinsShoe/pseuds/SandInAnakinsShoe
Summary: You've applied for a new job, one that your friends told you that you would regret.You didn't listen.In the end, you don't know if you really did regret it or not.Michael Afton x Gender Neutral!ReaderIn Wattpad under the same title.In progress, infrequent updates.
Relationships: Michael Afton/Reader, Michael Afton/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	1. - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers, and welcome!
> 
> Here are some little details about this story before we get started:
> 
> This book takes place in the Five Nights at Freddy’s universe, specifically in Sister Location. We decided to write this for fun, and it is in no way official or canon. The FNaF franchise and characters belong to Scott Cawthon.
> 
> With disclaimers out of the way, allow us to introduce ourselves. I’m  
> Ivy, and I’m writing this story with my friends Pippin and Cherry! I personally think that this story would not be possible without the two of them, so thank you! You can visit their Wattpad pages @its_cold3 @LiviRose899 
> 
> Right now, only the first chapter of this story is completed. We’ll be posting this first and see how well it does, and if people like it we’ll write more!
> 
> For clarification, this story is a reader insert, with the reader having a relationship with Michael Afton. You are the main protagonist in this story, and will be called (Y/N) or [Name]. This is where your name goes. We know how confusing this can get, so we’ll try to keep all of the brackets to a minimum. Additionally, the story will be told in the second person perspective, and in present tense. Viewpoint changes will be specified.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading the introduction! Here, have a sticker: ⭐
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -Pippin, Ivy, and Cherry

You step into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. It starts moving, rattling unsteadily underneath your feet. Colourful posters of Circus Baby and Ballora grin freakishly at you and… him. There’s someone else in the elevator with you. He looks familiar. You don’t know why. Blue eyes, fairly neat brown hair.

You can’t quite figure out where you recognize him from. After all, there are many men with blue eyes and brown hair. Maybe his face shape, maybe his build rings a bell in your head. You attentively examine his somewhat familiar figure, the identical purple blouse the two of you are wearing, and the black pants which contain a stable belt around them. Just like you, he has the keys to the desolate place and a flashlight. His head twitches in your direction, just barely catching you looking away.

The elevator is aged and rusty, like it hasn’t been used in years. An enormous fan spins above you and the man, casting long, flickering shadows down the walls. The cold white lights flash and go out every few seconds. The entire contraption looks like it can collapse at any given moment.

While there isn’t much to look at around you, you try and get a glimpse of the name tag of the yet unknown man beside you. Due to the unsteadiness of your location, all you can conclude is that his tag is slightly crooked, pinned on too far to his left, and written on in thick black marker. Wait… there’s an “M” on his name tag. One letter, that’s all you have to work with. You decide to abandon your attempts at finding his name, instead choosing to focus on what he’s doing.

The man beside you keeps _almost_ touching his keys, and right before he does anything, he snatches his hand away like he’s afraid to make any noise. His other hand is holding his flashlight so tightly that his knuckles are white. You’re starting to think that he’s even more nervous than you.

Your ring of keys, sent to you with a letter in the mail, were specified to be used only in emergencies. There was supposedly a “Hand Unit” at the pizza place to give you instructions and unlock vents, do all of the dirty work. You had no idea how that would work, in fact, you had many doubts about it, but there were remarks from previous employees in the letter saying how amazing this Hand Unit was. Or is. Whichever one it is, you decided right away to be wary of this thing. You prefer to use keys anyways. 

Occasionally, his free hand strays up towards his left ear, and- _holy crap._ He’s got an earring. It’s nothing fancy, just a small black stud, and yet you’re mentally freaking out. You have to pinch your arm to snap out of it. _I’m staring, aren’t I? Just look ahead or something, don’t be suspicious, you’ll be fine._

_I want to touch his earring._

You have to restrain yourself from punching your own face. _That is not looking ahead!_

With a small amount of difficulty, you manage to tear your gaze away from the man’s ear, instead looking at a brightly lit red button to the right of the elevator doors. You assume that these doors are the exit, seeing as they are just barely open and rattling, whereas the doors from which you entered are firmly closed. Somehow, the shut doors behind you are much more ominous.

“Welcome to the first day of your exciting new career!”

The two of you jump, startled, at the strange new voice. It comes from all around you, a deceptively warm and pleasant male’s voice. Is this the “Hand Unit” you’ve heard so much about? It continues speaking.

“Whether you were approached at a job fair, read our ad at Screws, Bolts, and Hairpins, or if this is the result of a dare, we welcome you. I will be your personal guide to get started. I’m a model 5 of the handyman’s Robotics and Unit Repair System, but you can call me Hand Unit.”

Ah, so this is the Hand Unit. You think that it’s rather unsettling. You thought that it would be a robot, or at least an actual face on a screen, but it’s just a voice. Just a voice, right? This thing is even scarier than what you imagined. A disembodied AI’s voice telling you what to do. You don’t like it, and neither does the man beside you, apparently. The hand holding his flashlight looks like it’s entirely white, now.

“Your new career promises challenges, intrigue, and endless janitorial opportunities.”

Janitorial… what? You applied for the night watch position, you didn’t come here to clean up after a bunch of bratty six-and-seven year olds.

“Please enter your name as seen above the keypad. This cannot be changed later, so please be careful.”

A small, bright yellow keypad appears in front of you. You pick it up and notice that the blocky green lettering flickers and vanishes from the screen every few seconds. Two peeling white stickers are stuck above the keypad’s screen. One shows your name, written in a thin black pen, and the other sticker reads “Mike”. You take note of how frequently the screen flickers, and carefully input your name.

“Excellent. Welcome, [Name]. Please pass the keypad to your companion.”

Your said “companion” holds his free hand out to you for the keypad. He’s a bit more impatient than you, clicking on a key the instant that the screen flickers. Doing so must have caused a glitch, because multiple green dots, signifying characters, appear at the top of the screen along with an “error” warning.

“It seems that you had some trouble with the keypad. I see what you were trying to type, and I will auto-correct it for you. Welcome, Eggs Benedict.”

Eggs _what?_

“You can now open the elevator using that bright, red, and obvious button. Let’s get to work.”

The elevator has stopped moving, the lights low and dark, the fan above eerily silent. Suddenly, the man beside you speaks.

“What did that thing call me? An egg?” He has a slight accusatory tone to his voice.

You turn towards him, meeting his gaze. “No. It called you Eggs Benedict.”

He blinks. A slight shudder runs through his shoulders and it takes you a second to realize that he’s _laughing_. A few giggles escape your lips before getting louder, joining in with someone you hardly know. Whatever leftover tension in the air dissipates immediately.

Finally, he straightens up, wiping one of his eyes. “I’m not an Eggs whatever. My name’s Michael. I’m assuming that you put your name really is (Y/N), right? If you typed your name right on that thing, anyways.”

“Heh. Yeah, I did. I’m (Y/N), and it’s nice to meet you, Michael.” You smile at him, inwardly marvelling at how well this is going so far. “Should we press the button?”

Turning to the glowing red button, he responds, “Yeah, we probably should. Would you like to do the honours? Of pressing a not-creepy-at-all button that could possibly lead us to our dooms?”

You have a horrible feeling that, despite his cool and joking tone, he’s telling the truth.

You nod and step forwards, pushing the red button firmly with the side of your fist. The elevator doors open, revealing a low, dark, and square vent with crumpled yellow caution tape draped over top of the opening. 

“Well? After you, (Y/N).”

Taking a deep breath, you kneel in front of the vent and crawl in. It’s dark and cold, clammy. The metal on all sides burn your skin. You don’t know what’s on the other side of this tunnel, and that scares you. More than it should, probably.

_I… can do this._


	2. Chapter 2

For a minute, there’s no sound, just the muffled bumps of your limbs hitting the sides of the vent. You open your mouth to make a comment, say something, but you’re cut off suddenly by the Hand Unit.

“Allow me to fill this somewhat frightening silence with some lighthearted banter. Due to the massive success and even more so unfortunate closing of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza-”

You think that you hear a mumble from Michael behind you, saying “it wasn’t that unfortunate, believe me”, but you’re unsure if that’s what he really said.

“-it was clear that the stage was set -no pun intended- for another contender in children’s entertainment. Unlike most entertainment venues, our robotic entertainers are rented out for private parties during the day, and it’s your job to get the robots back in proper working order before the following morning.”

Okay, now you’re confused. You thought that, for one thing, there would be shifts, and second, that you would be keeping watch over the robots, not interacting with them. Who would rent out animatronics, anyways? Isn’t that unsanitary? How would they be transported, with a truck? The animatronics aren’t light, you know that for sure.

Emerging from the vent, you stand up in a small, cold room, Michael emerging behind you a moment later. The air is dusty and smells like rust.

“You are now in the Primary Control Module. It is actually a crawlspace between the two front showrooms.”

The two front showrooms? What’s the point of having two entire showrooms for these robots if they’re rented out all day anyway? Either way, you assume that that’s what the two big windows are for, one to your left and one on your right. There’s barely any light in this “Primary Control Module”, only two weak, sick-looking green tinted lightbulbs above and in front of you. No light comes from the windows, just thick, inky darkness. Fumbling for a moment, both you and Michael switch on your flashlights, helping illuminate the dimness of the room.

“Now let's get started with your daily tasks. View the window to your left. This is the Ballora Gallery Party Room and Dance Studio, encouraging kids to get fit and enjoy pizza. Let’s turn on the light, and see if Ballora is on stage. Press the blue button on the elevated keypad to your left.”

You glance at Michael, who you find to be looking back at you. “Well?” You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to press this button, since I got the elevator button?”

He blinks and nods. “O-oh, yeah, sure.” It’s well concealed, but you detect the slightest waver in his voice. He steps forwards and presses the lit blue button with perhaps more force than needed. A ghostly purplish light illuminates the left window, revealing- _oh my god that thing’s close._

An animatronic, Ballora, you assume, has her face pressed against the left window. Her arms are lifted high into the air, her hands locked together, eyes closed, body frozen. Only her upper body is visible because of how close she is. You can see every tiny dent and chip in the robot’s paint and shiny body. Here, you can see that one, no, three, of the shiny rhinestones in Ballora’s tiny tiara are missing, most likely pulled out by a fascinated child. Ballora’s eyelashes are frozen, five perfect lines drawn out from her eyelids on either side.

You don’t thoroughly realize that you’re backing away, as your eyes examined the animatronics lifeless form, until you bump into Michael.

“Aw-” Was the only sound the two of you made as the hand unit begins talking again, filling the quiet room with his voice once more.

“Uh-oh! It looks like Ballora doesn’t feel like dancing. Let’s give her some motivation. Press the red button now to administer a controlled shock. Maybe that will put the spring back in her step.”

You step away from your colleague, looking at him to see if he wants to push the third button of the night. His hand moves upwards, and you notice that he’s signaling you to push it. 

“I mean, it _is_ your turn.” The corner of his mouth turns up and watches as you roll your eyes and approach the control panel. 

You look down at the red shining button below your hand and push it, unlike Michael, with less force than needed. A crackle of electricity, the lights going out, and then the Hand Unit’s voice.

“Let’s check the light again.”

Now, technically, if the both of you were wasting your time by this ‘taking turns’ thing, it is now Michael’s turn. So now it was your time to wave your hand around and signal him with a small smile on your lips.

He steps forward, softly nudging you aside and pushes the button.

The dim purple light reflects on the stage yet again, now with Ballora in her prim, proper position on it.

“Excellent! Ballora is feeling like her old self again and will be ready to perform again tomorrow. Now, view the window to your right. This is the Funtime Auditorium, where Funtime Foxy encourages kids to play and share. Try the light! Let’s see what Funtime Foxy is up to.”

You have a horrible feeling that this “Funtime Foxy” won’t be in his proper place either, and this feeling must be reciprocated, with you seeing the expression on Michael’s face. You step forwards and press the glowing blue button to the right. This time, the outcome scares you even more than Ballora’s sudden appearance. The white and pink fox isn’t even visible from the crawlspace, the stage is empty, and somewhere, you can hear a creepy tune playing all around you. Hand Unit jumps in once more with his cheery monologue, obviously pre-recorded thousands of times.

“Looks like Funtime Foxy is taking the day off. Let’s motivate Funtime Foxy with a controlled shock.”

Only now do you realize how little that would motivate someone, by giving them an electric shock, as Michael presses the red button and the window flashes with an icy yellow light.

Nothing happens when you check the light again, only blurry, dark shapes crowding the edges of the glass.

“Let’s try another controlled shock.”

This time, you hear the crackle of electricity hit metal. Something clunks, something sharp and harsh, and some hidden gears creak softly. The shock has finally hit something. 

“Looks like Funtime Foxy is in perfect working order. Great job! In front of you is another vent shaft. Crawl through it to reach the Circus Gallery Control Module.”

You hear Michael exhale softly from beside you, as if he was holding his breath the whole time. 

“Hey.”

He blinks and turns to you, a small smile appearing on his face. It’s a fake smile, practiced and hard to see through from a distance, but it’s fake all the same. “Yeah, (Y/N)?”

“Are you-” you hesitate. “You alright there? You’re… really tense.”

“I- of course I’m alright. It’s just- just kinda-” he gestures helplessly with his hands for a moment and gives up, looking you in the eyes. “Y’know?”

Somehow, despite his short and confusing response, you know exactly what he means. There’s just something about this place that doesn’t feel right. You nod, and he visibly relaxes, his shoulders slumping slightly and his whole form unwinding.

“Anyways, you up for one more robot check? I think it’s that big red baby, shouldn’t be too hard.”

Michael nods. “Circus Baby. Piece of cake. We’ve got this.” The way that he says that feels as if he’s saying it more to reassure himself, not you.

The both of you look forwards and down, towards the newly opened vent shaft. You adjust the brightness on your flashlight before gripping it more firmly and crouching down in front of the vent and crawling in. This trip is shorter, and has no Hand Unit trying to fill the silence.

You emerge from the other side and stand up, Michael not far behind. This room is smaller, with glass panelling on every wall except for the one behind you, which is a mottled gunmetal grey with neon yellow notes haphazardly tacked all over it. The writing on the notes is too small and messy to decipher, scrawled by a hurried hand in smudged black ink. In front of you, there’s a rather complicated-looking control panel on a block of a desk. Dials and small screens blink and flash up at you, a cold, harsh light flickering on and off somewhere deep within the building and illuminating the room briefly for seconds at a time. Some sort of doll sits on top of the desk, holding a short stick (a magic wand, perhaps?) and grinning horribly. Another doll hangs from the middle window frame by his neck, his head tilted at an unnatural angle and every single square tooth bared in what’s meant to be a lovely smile.

Wires and tubes obscure your vision of what’s behind the glass. Below the right window, three square fans slowly rotate, embedded in the wall. Circular tanks and boxy metal contraptions are bolted into the floor beside the desk.

“On the other side of the glass is Circus Baby’s Auditorium. Let’s check the light, and see what Baby is up to.” Hand Unit’s voice rings out into the buzzing silence.

You’ve forgotten whose turn it is to press the buttons, so you reach forwards and press the glowing blue button on its little stand. The button clicks, you hear the buzz of electricity, but there’s barely any light. Nothing is visible behind the glass. Michael inhales sharply, exhaling a shaky breath perhaps a bit _too_ quickly to be healthy.

“Looks like a few of the lights are out, but we can fix that later. Let’s encourage Baby to cheer up with a controlled shock.”

Michael’s fingers twitch, but he doesn’t make any other moves to press the shock button. You have half a mind to take his hand, but then you remember that you barely know each other, and besides, you’re also kind of terrified so your attempts at comfort would _not_ help- at all. 

Your hand lifts slowly, pauses, and continues up towards the panel. The red button clicks. You hear the shock crackle through the air and stop. Did it hit Circus Baby?

“Let’s try another controlled shock.”

Apparently not.

You press the button again. The same crackle rings through the air and is cut off once more.

**_“Let’s try another controlled shock.”_ **

You’re really not liking this, but you swallow and accidentally slam the button down with your hand out of all the tension in the air. Michael jumps, startled. You mumble something that sounds vaguely like an apology, too frightened of what might show up on the other side of the glass windows. The same thing happens: the shock is delivered, the noise stops, and Hand Unit speaks again; thankfully it’s not about trying another controlled shock. You can’t help but wonder how many volts are used in those shocks. They are being used on big robots, after all.

“Great job, Circus Baby! We knew we could count on you! That concludes your duties for your first night on the job. We don’t want you to leave overwhelmed, otherwise you might not come back.”

Are they serious? Do they seriously think that after all this, _anybody_ would want to come back here? And where was Circus Baby, anyways? You couldn’t see her. Maybe you didn’t want to, but at least you would be reassured of her presence instead of simply _assuming_ that she was in her proper place.

“Please leave using the vent behind you, and we’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Michael turns around and practically bolts out through the vent. You blink and follow him, emerging through the vent into the central control module, only to hear soft thumps through another vent ahead of you.You crawl after him, standing up in the elevator, which closes its doors behind you and starts moving up. He’s breathing heavily.

“Are-” jeez, why is talking to him so difficult? You’ve handled worse, this should be easier than taking ice cream from a baby. But you can sense his defences going up. Nothing you say or do will be able to get him to speak, and besides, his fear is none of your business. You opt instead to click the little power button on your flashlight, turning it off. “I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for? You didn’t do anything, cupcake, calm down.” There’s a lilt to his voice that doesn’t match the emotions in his eyes. You sigh. 

“I’ve no idea, I say sorry a lot. Sorry- wait. I’m sorry about- jeez, I did it again! Um, my bad?”

At this point, Michael’s snickering at your verbal mess. Normally, you don’t like being laughed at, but seeing as he was close to snapping out of stress a few seconds earlier, you count this as a success.

“You got there eventually, (Y/N). I never thought that something like this would happen on my first shift.” The elevator doors open. “That was fast. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You smile at him. “Yeah. Goodnight, Michael.”

The two of you step out of the elevator and depart, you to the left and him to the right. 


End file.
